


rearranging dick chairs

by Elendraug



Series: NERD HAPPEN x4+ COMBOBOB [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Begging, Bulge Sucking (Homestuck), Bulges and Nooks (Homestuck), Casual Sex, Dirty Talk, Edging, Enthusiastic Consent, Friends With Benefits, Gillplay, God Tier, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nook Eating (Homestuck), Nook Fingering (Homestuck), Nook Worship (Homestuck), Open Relationships, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Polyamory, Purring Trolls (Homestuck), Sex Positive, Sexual Fantasy, Troll Gills (Homestuck), Trust, Wet & Messy, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 21:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20396251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elendraug/pseuds/Elendraug
Summary: “Things that are terrible can also be great. Like a deity.” Dave pinches his thumb and index finger gently into Eridan’s neck muscles and rubs at them until Eridan sighs into his shirt again. “Or a t-rex.”“Or a leviathan,” Eridan suggests. “Or my junk.”“Or your junk,” Dave agrees.





	rearranging dick chairs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cryogenia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryogenia/gifts), [roundandtalented](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roundandtalented/gifts), [Xagave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xagave/gifts).

> I just really wanted someone to eat Eridan's nook and it may as well be Dave
> 
> takes place after the previous erisolkat installment but it can stand on its own
> 
> this could probably stand to be proofread more thoroughly but it _is_ sloppy seconds, amirite??
> 
> ♫ [boards of canada - 84 pontiac dream](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jf5NP-WLGTw)

“So then Kar asks me, while he’s got Sol on his bulge and is gonna ruin the coddamn couch...” Eridan pauses and works at the [top button of his shirt](https://www.versace.com/us/en-us/men/clothing/shirts/love-versace-print-denim-shirt-a708/A84266-A230225_A708.html), frowning when his claws get in the way of smoothly undoing it. “He asks me, whose tank top is that this time?”

Dave reaches down to help him with it, his hands at Eridan’s throat. He pushes the gold button through the denim and moves down to the second one, with short enough nails to make quick work of it. “Whose was it?”

Eridan looks up at him from where he’s sitting on Dave’s bed, as Dave stands in front of his knees. “That’s the thing. I couldn’t remember.”

Dave laughs and brushes his thumb over the dip in Eridan’s collarbone as it’s exposed. “If you’re just accumulating shirts you find without knowing where they came from, this lends credence to my _Eridan = Ariel?_ conspiracy theory.”

“Fuck you, first of all.” Eridan tilts his chin further up, and lets his lip curl to show off a hint of teeth. “I’d obviously be the prince in that movie so don’t get me started.”

“Dude, you’re not supposed to button the top button.” 

“And also,” he continues, undeterred, “if there weren’t so many mechanically-inclined guys in our social circle who wear the same indistinguishable black tank tops, it wouldn’t be a problem to figure out whose wardrobe I snagged it out of.”

“Black goes with everything, once the screenprint rubs off.” Dave undoes the third, at Eridan’s solar plexus, a considerable drop from the second buttonhole. “Where’s this from, anyway?”

Eridan’s accent is noticeable. “Versace.”

Dave laughs. “Damn. You’re right, this is flawless attire for a fancy date night.”

Eridan flexes his fingertips into the duvet. “It’s just gotta last until somebody’s takin’ it off, doesn’t it?” 

“Touché.” Dave moves down to the fourth button, and flexes his own fingers into the fabric, then just barely inside the shirt to find the edges of his gills at his ribs. “If you honestly want to be a trendsetter then you have to make your own outfits.”

“What, like Kan?” Eridan lets his eyes fall half-lidded, relaxing whatever supposed haughty anger had ever been present in his expression. “Like we haven’t already done that and then some.”

“Yeah, I meant less sewing machine, and more creativity with the subject matter.” He strokes the pads of his fingers over Eridan’s gills, careful not to rub them in the wrong direction.

Eridan snorts, but his gaze remains soft. “Is that what you call _wrinklefucking_ wizard fanart onto a plain white tee?”

“Hey, you don’t gotta insult Beatrix.” He pulls his hand back and moves on to the fifth and final button. “Although I do think Russet would be more your speed. Dude’s got a cape.”

Eridan rolls his shoulders and lets the shirt stay open more widely. “That’s not all it takes for me to find a guy likeable, you know.”

Dave grins at him. “Isn’t it?”

“Rude.” Eridan leans forward and presses his forehead against Dave’s stomach, his face resting against the iron-on transfer of wizardy linework. “Callin’ me out like that.”

“Sorry not sorry.” Dave brings his hands up to run through Eridan’s hair and hug his head.

Eridan lets out a sigh into the cotton; it’s warm and smells like Dave, but the section he’s pressed his skin against crinkles with adhesive. “By the time you get the iron and the ink and the sheets, it’s still like fifty dollars for a t-shirt.”

“Whatever you say, Mackerelmore.” Dave’s fingers drift down to tease along the tines of Eridan’s fins, touching as gently as if he were handling film. “It’s not about the final product, but the journey.”

“A journey to a craft store.”

“Probably.”

There’s a rare moment of quiet that spins up and stretches out between them, noticeable like a gap in an audio channel, and they’re aware that if enough seconds elapse, there will be sound again. Dave’s fingertips keep petting him and when sound does return, it’s as a low purr that’s picked up in Eridan’s throat and chest; Dave can feel it against his stomach.

“You know what the terrible thing about your outfit is, Eridan?” Dave asks, with his hands sweeping over his horns, jutting out impudently as his own personal sawtooth waves. “It’s terrible that you have matching pants.”

Eridan’s purring does not dampen. He nuzzles against Dave. “If by terrible you mean great, then yeah, that’s an adjective you could use for my impeccable taste.”

“Things that are terrible can also be great. Like a deity.” Dave pinches his thumb and index finger gently into Eridan’s neck muscles and rubs at them until Eridan sighs into his shirt again. “Or a t-rex.”

“Or a leviathan,” Eridan suggests. “Or my junk.”

“Or your junk,” Dave agrees. “That my hint I should get down to those mysterious fathoms below?”

“I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to check out what’s down below, no.” Eridan lifts his arms to hug Dave loosely around his legs. “By now you’ve got to be a foremost expert on exploring troll parts.”

“Then just call me Robert D. Ballard, because I’m about to dive for something titanic.”

Eridan laughs, caught offguard by it, and Dave beams. 

“Is that what you see _every night in your dreams_?” Eridan adds a hint of the melody to his question, and pulls back to look up at Dave again. He reaches for his hands, where they rest on his horns, and covers his metacarpals with his claws. “Visions of violet genitalia?”

“I sure am one diurnal motherfucker who sleeps when the sun sets. That is a fact.” Dave bends his knees and leans down, as if Eridan’s horns are handlebars and he’s using them for leverage; he puts no genuine pressure on them aside from petting him. “Except times when I’m _up all night to get lucky._”

Eridan clicks his tongue, suddenly close to Dave’s face. “Hey man, let’s not bring Vris into this.” 

Dave lets go of his horns and presses a quick kiss to Eridan’s cheek. “My bad. I forgot luck doesn’t matter.”

“Not if you bet on the right seahorse.” Eridan’s fin flicks in response to Dave’s proximity, and he turns his head towards him, to let it brush against his bangs. Its fluttering disrupts Dave’s hair. “Might win tickets for an unsinkable voyage.” 

“It was poker, numbnuts.” Dave pokes his fingertips into the two hearts embroidered into the pocket over Eridan’s own oceanic version of the organ, the presence of his touch interrupting the catch of light on its detailing. He then pushes Eridan’s shirt back, sliding it off his shoulders and partially down his upper arms. “Talking about supposedly unsinkable ships is a bad omen when you’re about to get laid.”

Eridan shrugs out of it and lets the garment fall behind him on the bed. “You’re gung-ho about sinking to your knees, so how bad can it be?”

Dave laughs under his breath, and speaks against Eridan’s neck, over his gills. “That’s _land ho_ to you.” 

“Dave,” Eridan says for the simple indulgence of speaking his name, tilting his head to allow him free access.

He braces one knee between Eridan’s thighs, still with his other foot on the floor. The angle is awkward, but Dave can easily exist above him, soothing his own suspension with the lift afforded to him by the game’s guidance. It’s somewhere between science and magic, with possibilities rendered tangible by way of imperceptible code permeating their existence.

“Your suit reminds me of one I made for myself, a long time ago.” His hands are in his hair, his fingers at his fins, thrilled to be touching him. “Thematically my card suit would be _hearts_, too, if you’re still wanting to extrapolate some kind of symbolism there.”

“If you’re not careful you’re gonna wind up extracting the symbolism right off your shirt, if you’re intendin’ to wear it while you’re havin’ your way with me.” Eridan slides his hands up along Dave’s spine, feeling out the vertebrae through the fabric. “This shit’s impermanent.”

“_All_ shit is transitory, my guy.” Dave hovers above him and tugs the t-shirt over his head, without any worries of his previously-removed shades blocking the movement. “But it just had to last until I took it off, right?”

“That all you’re gonna take off?” Eridan rests his palms flat on the mattress and looks up at Dave, soaking in the sight of his skin and how gravity tugs his hair downward while ignoring the rest of his weight. “Or are you takin’ off from this planet entirely?”

“We have _lifdoff_.” Dave drops his shirt on the bed beside Eridan’s before cupping his jaw in his hands and kissing him while midair. He speaks against the sharpness of his teeth. “Ain’t leaving you yet.” 

Eridan nips at Dave’s lower lip, and lets go with a grin. “You’re leavin’ me unsatisfied, is what.”

“Oh yeah?” Dave abruptly allows himself to be pulled down the z-axis, until he’s pressed against Eridan’s chest and leaning him backward onto the bed. What he does to Eridan’s fin is too delicate to be accurately categorized as a bite, and soon enough he’s returned to teasing him with phrasing instead of physicality alone, his words landing along his jawline. “Your satisfaction is guaranteed, and I’m aiming for five out of five hats.”

Eridan allows himself to sink against the memory foam as if it were water catching him and keeping him buoyant. Dave’s heartbeat is faster, mammalian, frantic against his ribs. Everything in Eridan aches to follow after that heat, that insistent push of circulation, to see where it leads and if this is all as red as he’s implied. “Unconventional method of measurement, isn’t it?”

“Not if you’re yelping for me.” Dave’s hips meet his, and Eridan tips his horns back into the sheets as Dave’s erection presses against his thigh. “You wanna hear what I wanna do?”

“Tell me what you want,” Eridan begins, barely suppressing laughter as he lifts himself up against Dave, his bare feet braced on the floor, claws clacking against it as he flexes his webbed toes. “What you really, really want.”

“More of the 90s jokes, for a start.” Dave skates his fingertips down along Eridan’s ribs to find his gills again, and speaks the rest of his suggestions at the junction of his jaw and the tines of his fin. “And to taste you until I make you come with my mouth.”

Eridan’s bulge seeks its match through their clothing, slipped out from his sheath and pushing against his pants towards the warmth of Dave’s dick. He does laugh as he attempts to shoo away his self-consciousness, and it’s well worth the effort when he’s able to temporarily dispel the doubts about himself and float instead within the reassuring closeness of Dave’s body above his, and the giddy tension that settles into his stomach. “Then what?” he goads.

“You ever actually read _Wizardy Herbert_?” he asks, with his hand sliding down from his gills to his pelvis, and just into his waistband. “There’s parts of this camp, like _Harry Potter_ has houses, you know?”

“Sure, yeah.” Eridan raises his own fingers to Dave’s chest, to run his left thumb over Dave’s skin until his nipple peaks enough to be pinchable. “What about it?”

Dave’s breath catches as he kisses Eridan’s neck. “One of ‘em is Fort Serpenook.” 

“Uh huh?” Eridan rolls the skin gently between his thumb and index finger, fascinated by Dave’s alien features, stimulated by the success of his efforts. “And?”

Dave licks along Eridan’s gills, his saliva a far cry from seawater, but the slats open briefly for him all the same. “And I’m gonna slurp your nook like giving you orgasms is the only way for me to prove I’m worth my salt as an Accounting Camper.”

Eridan’s bulge twitches, and he clenches his nook as it leaks violet into his underwear. He flexes his toes against the floor. “I got a lot of salt for you to check out.”

“Okay, enough bullshit.” Dave kisses his cheek, at the corner of his mouth, and floats himself off Eridan until he’s positioned on the ground, on his knees, between Eridan’s widely spread legs. He tugs at the waistband of the slacks, eager. “Take these off, man. I want my tongue on you like, yesterday, and as a time player, that’s saying something.”

Heat settles in Eridan’s gut and at the violet flush of his cheeks. “Well, that makes two of us.” 

Dave works at the fly of Eridan’s pants and slides them down his thighs. “I’m gonna strip you like I’m using my Minecraft major to burrow fuck deep into the bedrock.”

Eridan raises his hips away from the bed to help Dave remove his pants, the fabric falling to the floor in a crumpled pile of hearts (and occasionally, interspersed inverted hearts that are spades for all intents and purposes). His bulge is visibly writhing within the confines of his stretch-blend boxer-briefs, and the amount of genetic material already soaked into the cloth helps smooth its undulations against the garment. He swallows spit and keeps his skull resting heavily on the bed, aware of and awaiting Dave’s breath between his thighs. 

“Eat me already,” he urges, his tone less demanding than the words imply, but just as desperate.

“I’m gonna vore your salty-sweet sea dweller nook like I’m some nightmarish thing with an unhinged jaw that’s never seen life outside of a sulfur vent.” Dave pulls Eridan’s underwear down and away, sliding it along with his pants down his thighs and calves, until both pieces of clothing are completely off and Eridan’s parted legs are ready to accommodate him as he lowers his mouth to slick violet that’s awaiting his attention. Eridan smells like everything Dave wants to taste, and he lets his lips linger over the thick, sticky coating of genetic material that glistens along the length of his bulge and the folds of his nook. “Fuck, I want you so bad.”

Eridan lifts his hips, needy, teased by every exhalation and Dave’s elevated body temperature. He clenches his nook again, without anything to squeeze around, and it does so little to ease the deep-seated desire that’s settled into the pit of his stomach. He shudders. “I want you to want me.”

“Mission fuckin’ accomplished, man.” Dave flattens his palms against the inside of Eridan’s thighs, digging his fingertips into the muscle of his legs and his thumbs into the fat of his ass. “I’m already here.”

A rivulet of violet trickles down over Eridan’s nook and he trills for Dave’s touch, and the desperate sound is all it takes for Dave to lick the wetness up with a flat swipe of his tongue between the lips of his nook.

“Oh my fucking god,” Eridan gasps, horns digging depressions into the memory foam as he arches his back, as he pushes his hips towards Dave’s face. “Oh my god, Dave, _fuck_ me!”

Dave pulls back to grin against his skin. “I think Jack Dawson could’ve won a lot better than ship tickets if it’d been like, strip poker, don’t you think?”

“Tease,” Eridan taunts, his bulge twisting just shy of Dave’s face. “Fuckin’ tease, tellin’ me all about fictional fuckin’ characters and their convoluted card games instead of gettin’ me off.”

“Goddamn, dude, time to face facts.” Dave keeps his right hand on Eridan’s hip to steady him, and catches the base of his bulge in his dominant left hand, his wrist resting against his bone sheath. “Every romantic entanglement you’ve ever had has been linked to convoluted card games.”

Eridan chirrs as his bulge wraps itself immediately around Dave’s fingers. “How about you entangle your romantic human tongue with my junk?”

“_Les poissons, les poissons._” Dave licks over the length of him, as he’s curled between his fingers, then dips down to flick the tip of his tongue between the dripping folds of his nook. “_Savez toujours délice._” 

“Oh _fuck_, yes, more of that.” Eridan’s hamstrings are taut, shaky as Dave holds him open. “Paint me like one of your Earth French girls.”

“Troll Boubbe Rhosse at your service.” Dave works his fingers over Eridan’s bulge and keeps it moving as much as he keeps it out of the way as he licks at Eridan’s nook. “Ain’t gonna call you Rose, though. Not unless you change your tune about the wizardfic.” 

“My vascular system will go on for a shitload of sweeps, just you wait. I don’t care if it’s cheesy.” Eridan closes his eyes and basks in the heat of Dave’s breath against his skin. “_Omelette du fromage._”

“Always thought you were kinda like Dexter.” Dave sucks at the underside of his bulge, right as its thick base disappears into his body. “Dunno why. Maybe just the glasses.”

Eridan lets his legs settle onto Dave’s shoulders, his heels resting heavily on his bare back. “Was that 90s cartoon joke enough to turn you on?”

“I’m hard as hell.” Dave holds Eridan’s bulge still as he mouths along its underside, keeping his lips soft and occasionally pressing kisses to it as it attempts to twine itself against his face. “Keep ‘em coming and I’ll keep you coming.”

“Fuck.” Eridan tenses his thighs, closing them around Dave’s head without hitting the point of discomfort, and fists his hands in the bedsheets. “Fuck, it’s tough to think with you down there.”

“Take your time, while time takes you.” He guides the tip of his bulge past his lips and sucks him down, its slickness simplifying the task of swallowing him. It’s soft enough to hold in his mouth for a while, and firm enough to be satisfying as it presses against his tongue and his palate.

“Har har, Dave.” He emphasizes the v, as he always does, and breathes deeply while heat works its way through him, like his insides were themselves a mobius slipknot ready to give way if Dave made the right sudden movements. “You’re a riot.”

Dave laughs with Eridan’s bulge slipping against the back of his throat, and almost gags on it.

Eridan’s thighs tremble in Dave’s hands as his bulgetip tests the limits of the space it’s within, as Dave’s lips move over him and suction draws out more genetic material to slicken the surface. His nook feels exposed and aching to be touched, to have something thick slip inside him and give him anything solid to clench around while he comes. He clenches anyway, several times over, and lifts his hips off the bed enough to shallowly thrust towards Dave’s mouth, where his blunt teeth pose so much less danger to him than anyone on Alternia in the same position.

He moans, and Dave hums his approval around his bulge, watching as his abs draw tight. Dave moves his left hand from his thigh to brush his thumb over his nook lips and spread them apart, sliding his wetness around and leaving him wanting.

“God,” Eridan gasps, gills flared at both sets. “God, _please_ suck me, please put your fingers in me—”

Dave shifts his weight on his knees and gets his right arm around Eridan’s right thigh, held in the crook of his elbow. He leans over him and gives Eridan a half-lidded eyeful of his bulge moving past his lips, along with the filthiest slurping sounds he can manage to produce without overdoing it on the drooling. With his new leverage, he tentatively circles two fingertips between his folds and follows the movement of Eridan’s hips as he presses himself towards Dave’s hand.

Violet seeps out between his legs and Dave’s there to catch it and slide it back up, to rub quickly over his wetness while continuing to swallow around the girth of his bulge.

“Do you... _ah_, fuck.” Eridan takes a harsh breath and tries again. “Do we need a towel? Y’know, under my ass?”

Dave shakes his head and allows Eridan’s bulge to slip out of his mouth as he does so, its length coated in saliva and slurry, all of it mirrored by the mess on Dave’s chin.

“No,” he says, laughing, excited, breathless. “I want to watch you dripping.”

Eridan laughs too, self-conscious, his heels still resting on Dave’s back and his thighs pressed back towards his body. It would be so easy for Dave to get his dick into him like this, and Eridan almost asks for it, but there’s plenty of appeal in the promise of his tongue and fingers returning to his nook, and for now he’s enticed by the suggestion of coming in his mouth.

“Hey,” he starts, changing the subject slightly. “Is Double St—”

“Is Double Stufed Solreo a valid troll name?” Dave lowers himself down again, grinning. “Yeah, Karkat already told me that joke. I approve. You’re all valid.”

“Then where’s my fuckin’ flower crown?” Eridan grins back at him, his gut twisting with anticipation as Dave’s fingers hover just shy of touching him again. “I’m a prince, aren’t I?”

“Dirk’s using it.” Dave admires the slight glistening of slurry over Eridan’s spread nook, and holds two fingers together to slide them slowly into Eridan, to the second knuckle. “I’m sure he’d trade it back when you’re done borrowing his tank top.”

Eridan lies back again, relaxing onto the bed as Dave fingers him, hyperaware of the intensely interested undulations of his bulge as it tries to determine where the wet heat of Dave’s tongue went off to. “So many mechanics, Dave.”

Dave curls his fingers against Eridan’s inner walls and strokes him with his fingertips, searching for his shameglobes. “So many, by which you mean two.”

“Yeah, I do.” He sighs, and lets his eyes fall closed, focusing on the warmth that builds its intensity with every successive, successful bit of stimulation from Dave’s hand. “And I’ve fucked both of ‘em, so maybe it’s Equius’ shirt after all.”

“Guess you’re gonna have to make your own flower crown to demonstrate your validity to the world.” Dave raises his free hand to pet up along Eridan’s thigh and back towards his hip, not quite up to his gills, then over to rest on his stomach. “Unless you can find another clothing currency to trade in, like Jack Dawson’s hypothetical strip poker.”

The reassuring weight of Dave’s hand on his abdomen evokes a rush of affection and familiarity that catches Eridan by surprise. He licks his lips and keeps his eyes closed; his face feels hot. “Just gonna keep harpin’ on the _Titanic_ jokes, huh? Harpin’ like a harp seal.”

“That’s a reach.” Dave curves the angle of his fingertips, pressing gently in careful strokes and slow pumps of his hand. He pets Eridan’s stomach at an approximation of the same place, externally following the internal attention. “Like when Jack Dawson reached his artistic potential by sketching Rose in a recumbent pose.”

Eridan’s breath catches when Dave pushes against the right spots, now that he’s worked up enough to respond to it, and his bulge twitches at its base as his nook flexes around Dave’s fingers. “I’m gonna reach orgasm if you keep that up.”

“Good, ‘cause you’re fucking hot as hell when you come for me.” Dave coaxes Eridan’s bulge back into the palm of his other hand and moves over him in a loose grip, squeezing his hand as he slides down to the tip so that the slight pressure stays constant. “Just say when and I’ll go back to slurping your nook.”

“I want to come like this first,” Eridan answers, assertive, unafraid to ask for it after countless rounds of freely exchanged pleasure. “Then you can lick up the mess I make and get me off with your tongue.”

“I love how you feel around my fingers, dude.” Dave watches the slick violet build up between them as his fingers maintain steady pressure on his shameglobes and send genetic material coursing over his hand. “Makes me think about how good you feel around my dick.”

Eridan lifts his hips towards Dave, caught between the sensations of having his nook walls stroked and having his bulge stroked, and very ready to fall overboard in either direction, or both simultaneously. He trills, tipping his head back and trying to breathe. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want your dick in me right now.”

“You have that option. You could get your bulge in my ass, too, if you think you can recover enough after this masterstroke of genius we call one hell of a handjob.” Dave keeps his hand tight around Eridan’s bulge and rubs the tip of it between his fingers. “A release like the masterstroke of genius that was James Cameron’s decision to release _Titanic_ in winter instead of as a summer blockbuster, thus ensuring its staggering box office numbers.” 

“I’m gonna come,” Eridan announces, baring his teeth as he struggles to get enough air. He chitters and chirrs, barely able to focus enough to articulate the rest. “I’m gonna pail on your hand, don’t stop fucking me, _don’t_ stop, don’t stop, _Dave_—”

“I’m never gonna give you up,” Dave says with ridiculous sincerity, fucking his nook with his fingers and sliding his palm over his bulge. He keeps it all steady, sped up just enough, the entirety of his attention directed to maintaining the consistency of his technique now that he’s found what’s working for Eridan. “I wanna make you make the same sounds you and Karkat got out of Sollux when you both got your bulges into him.”

Eridan shivers and screws his eyes shut, his pulse thrumming until it’s all he can hear, his nook convulsing around Dave’s fingers, his bulge twisting tight around Dave’s hand. “Kar told you—”

He turns his head to kiss Eridan’s knee. “Sollux told me, too.”

Dave’s wrists are tired from the repetitive motion but he keeps going, keeps touching him as Eridan’s own movements slow, as he lets out a series of chirps and clicks and moans that have Dave’s erection straining against his pants.

Tension leaves Eridan in a rush of slurry that pulses fluid onto Dave’s waiting hands, his bulge almost too slippery to hold, his nook flushed violet and fluttering around Dave’s fingertips like his fins are fluttering against the sheets. His release soaks into the sheets, and Eridan wonders if Dave and Karkat have argued about disposable furniture, too.

“You know who actually drew that art of Kate Winslet?” Dave asks, retaining his hold on Eridan’s bulge but allowing his grip to go slack, and resting his other hand lightly atop his bone sheath, with the heel of his palm just barely butting up against his nook. “James fucking Cameron, the man himself.”

“And surely he’s been a huge source of inspiration for you in your life, since you’re a director too and you’re in charge of the action here.” Eridan looks at him as best as he can while lying down, and allows himself to enjoy how he can feel his pulse between his legs, and how wet he’s gotten throughout these stages of arousal. “So _that is how I know you’ll go on._”

“You are now permitted to be my lover, ‘cause you have in fact gotten with my friends.” Dave lowers his hands to rest on Eridan’s hips, and he leans his cheek against his slurry-splattered thigh. “I think you’ve seriously gotten with most of my friends at this point, actually.”

“Near, far, wherever they were.” Eridan’s nook twitches when Dave exhales over it. “If I namedrop somethin’ produced by Klasky Csupo, will you lick me some more?”

“That’s one letter shy of being a valid troll name.”

“_Rocket Powwer_.”

“There you go.” Dave returns his grip to Eridan’s thighs and lowers his mouth to his nook. He laps at him several times, clearing away the slickness, thrilled when he can feel Eridan tensing beneath his tongue. “You taste so fucking good, dude.”

“I love your tongue, and I love when it’s on me.” Eridan’s still sensitive, but not quite overstimulated, and Dave moves slowly enough that it’s not overwhelming. He breathes deeply and tries to calm the slight urge to recoil and recover, instead seeking a level of relaxation that will allow him to build it up again and enjoy this twice. “I love how much you love this.”

“You’re a good lay and you laugh at my stupid jokes.” Dave licks upward, back to the underside of Eridan’s bulge, just where it joins his sheath at the top of his nook. “I’m glad to get you off.”

“I’m glad you want to.” Eridan scoots further down on the bed, to bring his ass to the edge of the mattress and make it the angle easier on Dave’s neck. “You make me feel good.”

“After you come again, you gotta tell me if it was worthy of five out of five hats.” Dave closes his eyes and laughs as Eridan’s bulge glides against the side of his face. “You wanna be in charge of that?”

“You look good with a violet streak in your bangs, Dave.” Eridan reaches down between his legs to draw his bulge back until it’s laid out along his hip, and he hardly needs any further encouragement to touch himself while Dave does his part. “That’s a trendsetter move, right there. Reminds me of a fashionable guy I know.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?” Dave feigns ignorance and smirks at him, even if Eridan can’t see it, and runs his tongue between his nook lips again. “Goddamn. You know you taste different after you come, right?”

Eridan gulps and it approximates his textual _glubs_. “I do?”

“Yeah. It’s good. Like, not a huge change, but like, thicker consistency instead of being kinda runny.” He licks at him again, experimentally. “Stronger taste. Your bulge tastes a bit different compared to your nook, too, but I like all of that.”

“What was that I was sayin’ about you being the foremost expert?” He huffs a laugh, mildly embarrassed but mostly flattered, and rolls his bulgetip between his fingers. “Gonna combine your fishing career with that of a sommelier? Offer up some tasting notes?”

“Ain’t even gonna get defensive, my dude. I fucking love everything about going down on you.” Dave turns his head to lick at Eridan’s thigh, to clear away the violet-tinted sweat gathered at the slight space between his nook and his leg muscle. “I want my mouth on you all the damn time.”

“You have a standin’ invitation to put your mouth on me any damn time.” Eridan runs his fingers along the underside of his bulge until his nook is offering up additional slickness and occasional, visible convulsions as he waits for Dave to bring his tongue back. “And I’m pretty sure you’re invited to help make Sol make a bunch of hot noises, the next time he wants several bulges in him.”

“Isn’t that every day that ends in D-A-Y?” 

Eridan laughs. “In my experience it’s every other time.”

Dave laughs, too, and kisses Eridan’s hip. “Duh, yeah. Should’ve guessed that one.”

Eridan uses his other hand to touch his grubscars on one side, tracing his fingertips over them along with his gills, still stroking himself off and indulging every time his bulge pulls taut and coils tightly around his fingers. It’s easy to imagine Dave getting back on top of him and pulling his pants down enough to dick him down on this human bed, or to take him up on the other offer and slide his bulge between his ass cheeks until it’s Dave who’s breathless and spilling his own genetic material onto the sheets. From that, he can follow the train of thought to Sollux and Karkat tagging in, both of them touching him and taking him in front of Dave, who’s content enough to be a spectator in these scenes and take himself into his own hands.

He catches himself fantasizing as soon as Dave’s licking at his nook again. Eridan reminds himself that Dave is not the sort to judge a guy for wanting to come early and often, especially when it’s thanks to his own dedicated efforts.

“You gettin’ tired?” he asks, appreciative and attempting to be courteous.

“A little. My neck’s gonna get a bit stiff, but not as stiff as my fuckin’ dong.” Dave opens his mouth widely to stretch his jaw for a moment, then licks his lips. “You getting close?”

Eridan nods, lifting his hips towards his mouth. “Yeah. You make this so easy on me.”

“I love being easy, _and_ I love being hard.” Dave digs his fingertips into Eridan’s hips and ass as he grabs around his thighs and resumes his efforts. 

“Fuck.” Eridan keeps his legs spread, with one heel on the bed and the other over Dave’s shoulder, one hamstring twitching on reflex with each flick of Dave’s tongue over the base of his bulge. Everything in him feels warm, and all of the heat resonates from the same source, at the steady slide of Dave’s saliva, at every exhale from where his nose is pressed so closely to his body. “Oh fuck, don’t stop.”

Dave keeps a tight grasp on Eridan’s thighs and licks at him as quickly as he can manage, with wide, flat passes of his tongue over the folds of his nook and just between them without ever quite entering him, attentive and attempting to flick at his bulge on the upswing as much as he can.

The wet sounds of Dave lapping at him are almost enough to bring Eridan to the edge again on their own. He keeps his fingertips moving against his ribs and imagines that it’s Sollux’s psionics sending electrical stimulation into his internal structures, to the nerve bundles beneath his grubscars and the delicate workings of his gills. It’s just as effortless to envision his hand as Karkat’s, with thicker fingers accustomed to gripping a scythe instead of a speargun, callused in different places, the same temperature as Dave’s.

“_Fuck_, Dave, I want you to fuck me in front of them.” He keeps his eyes closed, immersed in a fantasy fueled by these physical goings-on, and the cast resituates within the scene until Eridan’s posed himself down on his knees, elbows braced against a bed already stained with crimson and gold, moaning over the subchannel of his own purring as Dave fucks him from behind in his nook, or his ass, or both. “I want you to come in me while they watch.”

Dave doesn’t have to ask who the other implied participants are, and he hums out his own pleased noises as he returns his fingers to Eridan’s nook and brushes between his slick folds with his knuckles. He keeps his tongue flicking against the underside of his bulge, low enough to lick his sheath and stay out of the way of Eridan’s hand as he attends to the rest of its length himself.

The fantastical purring becomes reality and Eridan does let out breathy moans atop it, and Dave takes it in, soaking in the sensual frisson of the sounds, as a warmth at the nape of his neck and a chill in the hair on his arms. He presses his lips to the base of his bulge and sucks rhythmically, flicking his tongue over him as quickly as he can.

Eridan’s thigh keeps trembling and he arches his back, horns tipped back, gills flared out and exposing so much of his most vulnerable places as the imagined slipknot tugs itself tight and releases its hold on his gut. He spills again, lesser in volume but just as satisfying as it sends shivers through him in waves, everything drawn back to Dave’s tongue where he’s licking up everything he’s been given, back to his bulge as it coils so firmly on his wrist that he’s ready to accept he’ll lose circulation.

With one massive intake of air that he gradually releases, Eridan allows himself to hold utterly still, even as Dave continues to clear away the violet between his legs to a point it edges just shy of unbearably ticklish and intense.

“You’re right,” Dave announces, after a moment of quiet, of all the small ambient sounds and their collective breathing that’d be otherwise overlooked and edited out with a noise filter. “You’re so right, I’m gonna see that every night in my dreams from here on out. Jesus fuck.”

“Your tongue’s the unstoppable force, and it’s turned me into an immovable object.” Eridan lets his head turn to the side, and the sheets being sweaty doesn’t stop him from seeking the relative cool of any space he hasn’t already been occupying. “I’m never getting up again.”

“If you’re gonna reenact _Se7en_ you’re obligated to involve Terezi for like, multiple obvious reasons.” Dave runs his hands over Eridan’s thighs softly before standing up and stretching. “Is she invited to all y’all’s sex parties, because I think she’d probably be up for it.”

“I can confirm for Sol that’s a yes on his part. You’d be the best one to ask Kar.” Eridan rolls onto his side and sighs heavily, completely content. “If she’s into me then I’m not opposed. Can’t say I’ve thought it was an option since I made an ass of myself sweeps ago.”

“I think it’d be a good look on you both if she was into you, if you know what I mean.” Dave lies down on the bed and spoons Eridan, unconcerned with the guarantee of violet stains on his jeans. “I think our boy Captor’d agree. I hear he’s an aubergine and turquoise kinda guy.”

“I think I heard that rumor, too. From Ter.” Eridan reaches for Dave’s hand and pulls his arm over himself, then presses his ass back against Dave’s crotch. “You wanna get off?”

Dave shakes his head and kisses Eridan’s head, despite the sweat in his hair and the slurry on his chin. “Nah, I’m good. Gonna be thinking about this later when I do get around to it, though, so kudos there.”

Eridan grins, cognizant of how flushed his face is. He keeps his eyes closed and enjoys the closeness of being held, and the satisfying press of Dave’s dick, even with his pants in the way. “Five out of five hats, Dave. _Very_ whale done.”

“Thanks. I would rate my dining experience as five out of five hats, also.” Dave pets Eridan’s chest and down to his stomach, where his bulge left trails of violet as it’s retracted into his sheath. “I’m serious, dude. Anytime.”

“Not just _any_ ‘time,’ right?” Eridan takes his hand in his and rubs his thumb over his knuckles, regardless of the mess. “Unless you got somethin’ else to share about our social circle and who’s up for what.”

“Guess we’ll have to _wwait_ and _sea_, yeah?” Dave huffs a laugh into Eridan’s hair. “At least you’re cool with wearing your heart on your sleeve now. Or your lapel, or whatever.”

Eridan opens his eyes and glances back at him over his shoulder with his peripheral vision, fond and comfortable with where he’s landed. He smiles. “Trendsetter.”


End file.
